


This Quiet Life

by elena_stidham



Category: Banana Fish (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Domestic Fluff, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Better, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-19 13:58:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17602652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elena_stidham/pseuds/elena_stidham
Summary: Ash's life can be divided by the sounds each location makes. Cape Cod was a world that only sounded like the wind and sea. New York is a world full of noise.Japan only sounds like Eiji.





	1. A Silent Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [授权翻译|This Quiet Life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18548506) by [Greenseaweeeeed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenseaweeeeed/pseuds/Greenseaweeeeed)



> WARNINGS FOR: Language, PTSD to rape and violence  
> SONGS USED TO GET IN THE MOOD: “PRAYER” and “BLUE BIRD” from Banana Fish on repeat.  
> I just finished Banana Fish as of today, January 13th, 2019, and thanks! I hate it. However, it’s apparently open ended? So of course this bitch is taking that and rUNNING. I understand why he died from a literary standpoint, but also,,,,as a fan,,,,no,,,,he deserved better,,,,so that’s what I’m gonna give him. I present to you: Ash’s recovery and adjustment to a peaceful world, by me. Also, if you’re interested in getting access to my work early before it’s release, as well as the deleted scenes, check out my Tumblr!! You’ll find more links and information about that there. My Zelda fic tumblr is minuetofthewild and my personal tumblr is elenastidham!! Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!  
> -Elena

Ash comes from a world of noise. New York is noise. His home is noise. Everything around him from the gunshots to the trains or fighting alone in the rain is nothing but an endless surround sound of loud noise. Ash always thought that he would die with noise, but it’s funny, really, how instead, he closes his eyes to silence.

He opens his eyes to noise, his vision blurry as nothing but white lights zip past his vision overhead. The noise starts to drown, and he closes his eyes to silence once again.

It’s a while before he opens his eyes one more time, suddenly sitting still, his body numb as the familiar sensations of tubes and wires wrap into his nose and around his ears. He lays in silence, the only sound that could be heard is his own vitals – his own breathing – signifying the fact that he’s only _alive._

_Eiji…_

He remembers Eiji. He remembers that little piece of him that was left behind. He remembers what he held so close and so dear that he let his guard slip—

Suddenly, Ash jolts up in his bed, frantically looking around and patting his sheets as if a nurse would slip it under there. His heart strikes with a surge of panic, and he reaches for his IV, ready to leave, but his eyes spot letters in the corner of his vision. He stops, looking up entirely, then reaches over, taking the papers, shaking as he’d breathe, before sighing back down in relief.

He presses the letter to his chest, staring up at the ceiling. The adrenaline from his desperate search starting to sink away, and his eyelids start to feel heavy. He tries his best to clench onto the papers as if they were his life source themselves, but Ash is once again overtaken by nothing but silence.

 

* * *

 

_Open your eyes._

_Open your eyes._

_Wake up, Ash._

Ash’s eyes feel glued together. It takes practically all the energy he has, but his eyelids start to crack, his hand clenched tight in a fist as he struggles to breathe. It’s like he had been completely wrecked by a truck. What the hell happened?

_Eiji…_

His vision’s fuzzy. His chest is tight. His memory filled with fog as he tries to remember what he’s doing here, and why he’s here, and who it was that—

_Eiji!_

Ash’s eyes snap open entirely, now, his inhale rough and more like a ragged wheeze as he tries to push himself up. He has to go somewhere. “Eiji,” he gasps, quickly glancing around the room in this desperate search for someone not ever going to be there again. He feels what’s in his fist now – some crumpled up paper, as if he was desperately fighting to remain holding onto it. “ _Eiji!_ ”

“What the hell are you doing?” A voice strikes through the air. Clear. Prominent. It’s voice that’s familiar, yet somewhere dark; distant. A hand pushes him back, and Ash turns his head, when his eyes focus, he realises there’s two faces instead of one. Max is there. He said it. Yet his fiancée is right beside him, the same tone of worry etched onto her face. “Take it easy. You’ll reopen your wounds.”

The words strike through his brain, and then reality hits him. _That’s right_ , he thinks. _That’s what happened._ His fists unclench and he stares up at the ceiling in defeat, his eyes blurring again with mist. This time, it’s no injury or drug. This time, he knows, but he leaves it alone. He takes a deep breath, the room weighs heavy in silence, and he doesn’t even realise how now, his cheeks are wet.

“Eiji,” he says finally, hoarsely. “Did he make it back okay?”

Max pauses, then he nods with a sad smile. “It’s the safest I’ve ever seen a plane.”

Ash inhales sharply, then nods carefully. “Good,” his voice breaks. “That’s good.” He looks back up towards the ceiling, feeling the tears on either side of his face now. “Max,” he speaks again. “How long as it been?”

“Just a day.”

He hesitates. “Jessica?”

She nods. “Just a day.”

Ash’s exhale takes longer, his hands careful on his body as he finally reaches up and wipes his face, despite dampness still returning there. It’s what he wanted. But he also wanted to go with him. He wanted to go somewhere far away. He wanted to go to the very someone that made him feel at home.

But what just happened is a sadistic reminder from the world that he does not belong in a quiet life. He’s in a loud, loud world, and that world should not be one that haunts the man he loves to his grave. Eiji belongs in the quiet life, and that life is not with Ash.

In a way, he almost wishes that he died right there in that library. He was so close to it – he could _feel_ it – and he was okay with it too. He could have so easily gotten help, he could have very simply laid death to rest as he wandered away from a new loud noise. But instead, with the heavy reminder sinking into his side, all he could do was shoot noise back, then wait. He would have entered a quiet life and the suffering noise would haunt him no longer.

Ash Lynx was never afraid to die.

In a sickening sort of way, he hopes for it to follow him here. To take him out of the noise. But because life is a sadist, he can never, ever, live his own life in his own way. Freedom is the only definition in his vocabulary that continues to be impossible.

“Leave me alone,” he says, finally. “I want to be left alone.”

So he’s alone. He counts his minutes and paces how long he’s been there before he glances over at his side. It still stings. His eyes are still burning. It’s not long before Max walks back in, phone in hand.

“I thought I said for you to leave me alone,” Ash hisses, his eyes staring out the window and not turning back to face him.

Max debates his wording very carefully. The field of journalism had taught him time and time again the power of each individual word, writing within that field falling somewhere between a science and an art. Finding out the perfect words to say is an equation that uses both of those takes. “There’s a call for you.”

Ash turns his head, noticing the cell phone now, before he finally sighs and reaches out his hand. When he takes the phone, he waits, gesturing for Max to leave again. When he does, that’s when he finally brings the device to his ear, a lifeless answer speaking its way to the other side. He doesn’t even remember what he said. What he does remember, however, is heaven in a voice.

“Ash?” He speaks. “Are you okay?”

Ash freezes, sitting up carefully in the rising bed, bringing the blanket closer to him, it provides a kind of warmth that only a specific human being can replace. His eyes are wide, his lips parted with the bottom half trembling with his fingers. Is he crying again? He believes so. He didn’t want it to be this way. It couldn’t end this way. He shakily holds the letter to his chest, and he finds somewhere the strength to swallow hard, and speak again.

“Eiji?” he asks. “Is that really you?”

The breath on the other line shakes, almost with relief that he was even hearing Ash’s voice to begin with. “Yes,” he says, full of light. “It’s me.”

There’s a million things that Ash wants to do after hearing his voice. There’s a million things Ash wants to _say_. There’s a million things – _please,_ and _I need you_ and _I love you so much_ —

“We can’t talk to each other,” Ash’s voice is strict, trying to hold himself together. If he can hold his own voice together, maybe it can keep him from breaking. If he can just hold out long enough to hang up the phone—

“No please don’t hang up don’t leave me,” Eiji quickly begs on the other side, a tone that completely shatters Ash’s heart directly down the middle. He pauses. He doesn’t want to say anything to him, the very thought of causing the other any kind of pain is completely destructive. It’s too much for just one heart.

He takes a shaky breath, and he doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t hang up, he doesn’t want to let go, but deep down he knows he has to kill them both at the press of a button.

“Please, just talk to me,” Eiji says quietly. “That’s all I want.”

“I can’t endanger you,” Ash thinks, out loud, causing his train of thought to be immediately cut short by a voice that’s just so _distraught_ —

“You don’t endanger me. Please,” he pleads. “Please Ash. Just talk to me.”

Ash is used to silence with a heavy undertone of noise. He’s used to the quiet where in the distance there’s only the sound of moans or screaming. But this time he’s not used to it. He’s not used to silence that just remains as silence.

“Please,” he begs. “Please Ash.”

This pause is longer. Heavier. It carries the same weight of a gun holster, right before he grabs it to murder. What Ash has learned, however, is that the slowest, most painful deaths don’t come from carving knives or blunt force. It’s the sound of a voice on the other end of a phone, crying out your name.

Ash takes a moment. He debates. A thousand thoughts run through his head all at once and all he can think of is what he wants to do. All he wants to say. He decides small. He uses the tiniest steps with his heart, hoping it would carry him far enough to where the pain won’t be as horrific when it’s all said and done.

“I…I miss you so much, Eiji,” Ash says softly. “I miss you so much I can’t stand it.” He waits, only for a moment, stopping Eiji from saying anything more because he was sure if he’d hear something else right now, his heart would just completely break. “I…I read your letter.” He swallows hard, his breath shaky. “All I wanted to do was run to that airport. You don’t know how badly I want to be with you.”

“I mean everything I wrote. I mean it all,” Eiji’s tone is comforting, his words heavy. “You’re the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me.”

_And you’re mine._

His grip tightens. _Hold it together,_ he thinks to himself. _Keep yourself alright._ But the very thought that he, a punk murderer, is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to this ray of sunshine’s life? It’s almost an impossible idea in itself. How can someone so wonderful, so purely amazing, someone so agonisingly incredible in every way, think that someone like him is the greatest thing that’s ever happened in his life? How does he not even scare him to death?

“You have no idea, Eiji,” Ash whispers. “You have no idea how much you make me happy.”

Eiji waits for just a moment, debating on his next words, but it would be better to try and to fail than to live the rest of his life regretting that he hadn’t even tried at all. “You know, you can still come to Japan. You can live with me,” Eiji suggests lightly. “It can be just us. There’ll be no more gangs, no more heartache, no more pain. Just you and me, Ash. I promise you, it’ll just be you and me.”

He remembers his Japanese lessons just a few days prior. He remembers how it ended. He remembers that he doesn’t belong in this world of noise. Eiji has no idea how badly Ash wants this. He has no idea that this is what Ash wants more than the entire whole wide _world_ —

“I can’t do that to you.”

The words hit like a bullet in the night.

Eiji is a target: painted red, ready to be shot down. But he’d take that bullet for him. He would do anything for him. He’d follow him to the end of time. Even if it did put them both in danger, he just didn’t want to have to let him go. When he was a child, his father used to call him dangerous. _You’re a dangerous boy._ He was right.

Yet Eiji does not stop trying. “Please, Ash. Think it over. It’s safe here,” he pleads, hoping that something will go through to him and he’ll genuinely change his mind. He tries one more thing, reassuring him that all the hell in the world is going away. That he has his wings now – that he’s finally got the ability to fly away if he wants to. He can finally leave. “Everything’s okay. It’s over. _You_ can start over. You can be alive again.”

But just talking to Eiji makes him feel alive again.

Even still, Ash waits, before he swallows through the pain and tears and finally repeats himself. “I can’t do that to you.”

And he hears Eiji speak, but right before he can hear him say anything more to break his heart his finger just reacts to the button at the bottom of the phone screen, ending the call entirely. It was almost as quick as pulling a trigger at his temple to pierce through each side of his head. Silence, Ash learns, without any noise, carries a weight almost too heavy for him to carry.  

At this point, he just slowly leans over, setting the phone on the side table. He waits a moment, almost debating on if calling back, hoping that the phone would ring again so he can pounce on it to pick it back up and cry for Eiji, begging _please, please,_ and _please_ —

But only silence came.

Ash takes a shaking breath before turning back to the window, watching the birds. The weight clutches onto his chest within that same minute, and that’s then he just curls in on himself, and _sobs_.

 

* * *

 

It’s long after his tears have dried before Max finally comes back in to retrieve his phone. He sees Ash, whose eyes remain locked on the sky and with the pain permeating around him being almost contagious. From this alone, he already has a vivid idea on what was said. Ash almost wants to make some snarky comment about his gawking at him, but he just doesn’t have the energy. Emotional exhaustion was something he’s used to, but not quite to this extent, not quite to the same level of pain.

“You’re not going,” he comments, almost like a question.

“I’m not,” Ash states fact.

Max glances over at the open screen. A missed call. The number’s Japanese. He only wonders how long Ash had to put up with listening to the ringing vibrations and he only wonders how much it had to kill him to ignore. He can see it without even looking at this boy in the eyes.

“You should reconsider.”

“You should mind your own damn business.” The cold bite in Ash’s voice comes from a deep wound in his heart. A wild, wounded lynx that’s backed into a corner is more terrifying and deadly than a tamed animal on its own.

Max only sighs, a half smile dipped in a hint of sad. “Suit yourself.” He waits, his hand hovering over his phone for just a few seconds before he slowly curls his fingers into a gentle fist and decides to leave it there overnight. “I just got a call.”

“Mhmm.”

“I forgot to tell you. My lawyer is thinking about getting me in touch with someone who will change my identity so my family and I can move safely,” Max tinkers with something on the table stationed bedside, not even paying attention to it. “I was thinking of extending the offer to you, if you want—”

“—Get out.”

He expected this answer. Regardless, he listens to him, knowing he planted the idea of leaving even deeper into his thick head. He hopes that it helps convince him further, that maybe _something_ will click.

Regardless, he listens.

 

* * *

 

The next few mornings Max visits back, Ash doesn’t ask about Eiji. It’s clear he wants to. It’s _painfully_ clear how much he wants to just take the damn phone himself and hear his voice again, but he doesn’t. Instead, he just sits up in the bed, his eyes watching the birds drifting along the sky past his window.

The birds remind him of that day. The birds remind him of the moment when he realised that a human being can fly. Eiji. His little bird. How does he fly today?

Max is quiet with him, pushing forward his trays of food that the boy had no longer contained an appetite to eat. His eyes don’t wander to the side and his throat doesn’t spit out some cocky remark. It’s in these mornings where Max wonders if the fearless Ash Lynx had finally cracked and broken.

But it’s on the sixth day when Max walks in, and Ash is finally out, leaving behind only an empty bed and curtains swaying in the open window breeze. He almost wants to search for him and try again, but he decides, maybe this is the end. Maybe this _is_ where Ash and Eiji completely cut ties.

On the seventh, Max learns that it isn’t.

He’s waking up to banging at his door, the rain outside soaking the world in a complete downpour. At first, he’s packing a weapon, carefully creaking open the door and leaning over to peek in at the darkness outside to see who it could be – and there stands a broken boy, green eyes and all, blonde hair sticking to his face and all over his neck. He can’t tell if there’s tears or if it’s just entirely rain.

“Ash?” He asks. There is no reply. There is no nod. With a soft sigh of relief, he opens the door entirely, carefully reaching out and helping guide him into the house, not even questioning the empty, vague look in his eyes because for some reason, he knows exactly where it’s from.

When Max returns with a towel to help this fragile child, he finds that Ash is suddenly pacing around here and there, his speed more like a wander. He looks lost, despite knowing his exact location all the way down to the centimetre. He’s careful in wrapping the towel around him, and that’s when Ash stops pacing.

“Did something happen?” Max’s words are as careful as cracking glass over a sea of water as cold as ice. “Are you hurt?”

Ash does not reply. He does not shake his head.

Max takes a deep breath, moving the towel around so it dries him some before he leaves it draped over his shoulders. “What’re you—”

“—Japan.” Ash says finally, his whisper amongst the dead. “Will he really be safe there if I go?”

Max’s answer is immediate. “Yes, Ash. Nothing will hurt him there. Nothing will hurt _you_ there, either. Never again.”

Ash waits, and he shakes his head. Slowly, almost like he’s swaying. “I don’t care if I’m hurt.” His eyes are fixated on a particular spot in the bottom corner of the window, the same spot a child might peek out of when watching the snow on Christmas Eve. “Japan…Eiji…” His voice is trailing, almost fading. “I want to go.”

“I can take you there,” Max says, now extra delicate with his tone and pacing. “We can take the soonest flight.”

Ash shakes his head. “Please, just…tell Eiji to meet me there. I’m going alone.”

Max slowly nods. “That’s fine.”

This time, it’s clear, that it’s not just the rain that dampened Ash’s eyes. But this time, it’s also clear, that these tears didn’t come from a place of pain, but instead, of relief. The relief is reflected perfectly with each stream on either side of his eyes.

“Thank you,” he says to Max, finally. His voice is sombre. Light. “ _Thank you_.”

 

* * *

 

Even when New York is long past beyond his eyesight, Ash does not breathe in relief. There is almost regret here, his grip on each arm of his seat practically white-knuckling. The flight attendant means well when she laughs with the simple question of “nervous flyer?” but it only makes Ash want to scream until he’s thrown out the window.

His eyes are shifting everywhere on the plane, making sure he’s almost late to walk in last and get a good look at every single person sharing the trip with him. There’s nobody he recognises, but that doesn’t mean nobody could be out for him.

Even when he lands he makes sure he’s the first one off, getting the upper hand to leave and wander ahead in case of anybody else being there that shouldn’t have to be. There’s a voice that tells him, maybe this might be alright, but after years and _years_ of this voice constantly being betrayed, Ash decides maybe it’s best not to listen.

His glance only darts around, watching each face carefully as he keeps his movement slow and careful amongst the crowd – blending in, completely in plain sight. However, it’s those that know how to find him that know where he hides, and Eiji had learned just how easily it is for him to shed his skin and put on a new one, only to revert back and blend once again all within the matter of minutes.

“Do I look fifteen?” was something in particular Eiji remembered, and once he realised what it meant, he realised just how _fucked up_ it was. How natural and easy it was for Ash to leave the world completely fooled, but he uses a weapon that he should never have had to use.

But Ash wanders the airport now, completely on his own, completely himself, only this time, there are no guns he can hold onto to protect his own life. He walks out, carefully eyeing the other side of a slate of glass where Eiji so eloquently found himself sat on the other side. There’s a moment where the crowd prevents any kind of recognition, but the moment their eyes meet, Eiji shoots up from his seat, their looks completely _unforgettable_.

They don’t break eye contact, the entire time they run alongside the glass at an alarming pace, despite their injuries, until the automatic glass door finally tears away their only barrier. Their arms fumbled, breaths hitched, and it’s within a matter of five seconds they’re holding each other as tight as they can, unable to ever let go.

They don’t say anything. Anything at all. It’s not until Eiji decides to break the silence with a soft, light-hearted chuckle as he pulls back slightly to tease. “I thought you wouldn’t come.”

Ash, however, does not tease in return. His tone is completely serious, heavily weighted with sincerity. “I will _always_ be by your side,” he says.

That’s when Eiji takes this hit, before he buries his face back into Ash’s shoulder and breaks into the gentlest of sobs.

Eiji’s apartment is cold by the time they arrive – a fact of which Eiji is quick to apologise about – but Ash doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind a million things wrong with the world as long as he’s sharing it with someone: only one specific someone.

Ash makes sure to count the windows, each step leading in up the stairs into this apartment, the two locks on his front door, and he can accurately guess his injuries if he were to leap off the balcony: broken bones, probably. Or at the wrong angle, sudden death.

Hopefully, if the rumours were right, there would be no worries of leaping outside.

Eiji shows Ash around the little parts of his apartment, and Ash notes the little details. The kitchen’s practically been untouched since his return, the dishes in the sink only consisting of glasses of half sipped-on water as if the only comfort it could provide was for nerves instead of thirst. The floor creaks in an uncomfortably particular way, sounding almost like a tune of music if hit with the right pressure. Each decorative piece in the living room is almost unsettlingly perfect when matched with whatever decided to line the walls. It’s beautiful. It’s perfect. It’s home.

“And here,” Eiji says finally, opening a door to the room that is _very clearly_ his bedroom. “Is where you’ll be sleeping.”

“I don’t think it’s safe on your wound if we share a bed,” Ash looks at him, slightly concerned.

Eiji shakes his head, gesturing to the living room. “My couch opens up into a bed. I’ll sleep there.”

“There’s no way in _hell_ I’m taking your bed from you,” Ash declares, a little too boldly. “You need a proper place to rest.”

“I’ll be fine,” Eiji shrugs it off. “You’ve got the worse wound. You’re taking it.”

Ash just shakes his head harshly and points to his bed. His voice is raised, just slightly, only to prove a point. “Go lay down. You’re staying there. I’ll take care of the couch. I’m _used_ to these kind of injuries.”

“Ash, you _flatlined,_ ” Eiji practically screams, his voice cracks with desperation, as if sleeping on a futon means the wound will never close. He swallows hard. “Take the bed.”

They exchange this look, before finally, with a heavy sigh, Ash submits to him. He won’t let it last, though. He’s sure of that. He just doesn’t want to fight anymore – _especially_ with an already fragile situation. So he lays low for the rest of the evening, his façade irrevocably calm despite every ounce of him is petrified that somebody has followed him or Eiji here.

In time, Ash learns, that paranoia is one of the _worst_ feelings which a human can suffer.

Through the darkness of the night Ash wakes up screaming for his mother, a woman he had never met, this faceless figure that he used to dream of saving him from his childhood. He dreams of her again here, calling out to her, begging practically his whole world to save him.

But nobody came.

He’s panting now, clutching the sheets before his palm crosses over onto his chest. His heart drumrolls with terror, and it’s a _wonder_ how he wasn’t heard. Something he didn’t know: Eiji learned to pretend not to hear him, but he’d always listen – he’d always pay attention and stay ready in case of an extreme situation.

Ash pushes himself out of the bed and looks out the window, eyeing around, greeted with nothing but quiet and the swaying of trees. He sighs, carefully watching his breath before he silently wanders out into the living room where Eiji lies. He watches, just a moment, his eyes glossed over with an emotion caught between so incredibly relieved and so incredibly _scared_ and _in love_ ; he blinks twice, and it goes away.

He knows his limits, and he knows Eiji’s weight – definitely doable. He reaches down and lifts up the man into his arms, holding him tightly before he carries him back to his own bed, laying him down and tucking the blankets up above his sleeves. He holds him there for a moment, studying his breathing, before he finally breathes in relief and turns back to the door.

He remembers one of the first things Eiji had told him about Japan one night they were together – he had asked about culture shock, and Eiji was quick to say that danger was only seen in movies and fame.

“It’s so safe in Japan,” he had said. “You can walk around at night, and nobody does a thing.”

Ash’s eyes look out the window once again, noticing the outside – it’s not like New York. There’s no dread of watchful eyes or any emotion resembling fight-for-your-life; instead, he is watching a silent sky, a smoothness that holds onto dawn and carries it over until morning.

He turns back to Eiji, brown eyes suddenly colliding with green, and that’s when he realises the boy he carried had been awake the whole time. It’s unspoken about what had happened, because they both knew – knew _better_ – and all Eiji does is just accept where he’s been placed and carefully grabs onto Ash’s hands.

No words are needed.

Ash holds his eyes on their hands for a few moments, before he looks back up, keeping a gentle smile and reassuring look. “I’m going for a walk outside,” he says. “I’ve got horrific jet lag. Figured I might as well do something since I can’t sleep.”

Eiji only nods, seeing right through him. When he lies, he is still unbreakably calm. It’s only the part about walking around tonight that remained as the truth, but everything else he knows is told just so he doesn’t have to worry. He swallows. “Okay.”

Carefully, Ash pulls away his hands, standing up straight again and walking over to the doorframe. He pauses, turning back to the bed and simply giving him a smile light enough to warm his heart. “Get some rest. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Of course, these words he can trust. “Okay.”

The door does not slam, but it is not closed quiet.

He packs a knife onto his pocket and slips a coat on over his shoulders. It’ll work as a weapon, but for the first time in over – _god_ knows how many – years, he has no intention to use it at all.

Japanese night life is something he’s heard about from foreign tourists, but it’s so different when you’re actually experiencing it on your own. It’s what people _wish_ for New York to be like, it’s beautiful and serene and there’s no weight in the air to carry. It’s just quiet. Quiet and lively. Lights decorate every corner and alleyway with a soft warm glow, and there’s no worry at all about who might be hiding in the shadows. It’s a feeling he wanted for so long, but when this feeling finally came, he’s only afraid.

Where’s the catch? He waits. Nobody approaches him. Nobody hurts him. Using his limited skills in the Japanese language, he asks someone at a 7/11 about directions to a destination he had heard from the market, and so they guide him there. This man had legitimately stopped what they were doing and actually _guided_ him there, and just as Ash had told him thank you for about the fourth time, he turns, expecting that he would have to pay him back somehow, but the man is already gone.

He is so used to people expecting something in return, but here…people were just _nice._ People were just so kind and expected nothing back. It was like being a good person is all they knew. It was like kindness is the only world they will ever know.

Ash looks out, the sound he had heard hours and even minutes before finally greets him with peace. Izumo is quiet, a peaceful little town, and just right by it is the ocean – so there he is, staring at the sea. The trees around him are bare from cold, the frail leaves dangling from branches so thin they might as well be thread, but despite this imagery and all there is only life to be found.

The ocean is different in Japan than it is in New York City. The ocean here pushes waters with peace. The ocean here does not scream.

It reminds him of Cape Cod. It reminds him of Eiji. It reminds him of _home._

Now, he is home. Every time he stares into Eiji’s softly beautiful brown eyes he’s only given feelings of warm – nothing at all like the cold, evil eyes of those that had forced themselves upon him. He remembers how at first, he’d be screaming, before eventually he had learned to cool his eyes and stare blankly at one particular spot of the walls around him. _This_ was the life he had been used to. Then Eiji came, the only life that he carried with him was one filled with love and laughter.

He watches the water, thinking about what might have happened had he never ran away. This was something he would always dream himself of having done when he was a child, hating himself for even ending up in this situation in the first place. That is, until had had met Eiji. Suddenly, this decision didn’t seem so bad anymore.

The only way he _could_ have met Eiji would have been if had ran away. There’s no other way around it. Sure, his life wouldn’t have been this particular kind of hell, but his life wouldn’t have ever seen this particular kind of joy. It’s the sickest jokes that are made by God. Man could _never_ bring irony within irony in the same way He can.

So he wonders. What _would_ have life done to him had he stayed? What would have happened if he never had the chance to look into Eiji’s eyes?

Moments after this, Ash sees a quiet light. He looks onward, noticing the sun starting to peek over the oceanside horizon, noticing that it’s the dawn of a new day. The dawn of a new life. The dawn of a new _home._

He stays there for a moment, watching the early morning sunrise, remembering all that he had tried to forget, and forgetting nothing that he wanted to remember. This was the sunrise of a quiet life, a life he had never had since he was a small child. He has to remind himself the texture he feels on his palms are sand, not blood, and when he stands, the air he breathes is not filled with gun smoke and liquor. It’s just water. Water and the dawn of a new day.

His legs take him back to Eiji’s apartment, where the amber light starts to seep through the curtains and filters through the leaves of the trees. The sunbeams burrow their way in through the window, projecting light all across the wooden floor. Ash opens this window here, hearing the sounds of the waves picking up their pace with the sun.

Ash cradles himself on the lonely futon, where the blanket smells like the only happiness in his life and the world sounds like it’s saying _sayonara_. The waves caress him goodnight, and there he dreams, in a world full of light, not for long, but for once, he does not wake up screaming.


	2. The Greatest Thing You'll Ever Learn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR: Language, PTSD 
> 
> SONGS USED TO GET IN THE MOOD: “BLUE BIRD” from Banana Fish and “RED” from Survive Said the Prophet on repeat.
> 
> The hardest part about writing this is trying to drag it out to where it shows a slow progression, but also keep it interesting and paced. This isn’t a slow burn or slice of life, it’s recovery, and as someone that’s had to do a lot of that (and frankly, still has PTSD), I want to show what it’s like. Then again, all recovery is different. So I took a lot of my own progress and mixed it with other stories to create this and it’s hard keeping a proper balance of realism and fiction. 
> 
> Also, if you’re interested in getting access to my work early before its release, as well as the deleted scenes, check out my Tumblr!! You’ll find more links and information about that there. My Zelda fic tumblr is minuetofthewild and my personal tumblr is elenastidham!! Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> -Elena

Ash is so used to a life where every night he has to fight to stay alive, but that’s not his life anymore. This life has changed. There’s no more fighting. There is only calm.

His morning used to never be the same. If he’s lucky, he’s able to wake up on his own time and make himself something quick and easy before he has to head off into a world of survival. Most of the time, he wasn’t greeted with that kind of security. Now, there’s routine. There’s stability. There’s waking up and showering and breakfast and some teasing in between newspapers.

One thing they picked up on were even nicknames, some of which even more ridiculous and sarcastic then they have been before – that is, until Eiji dropped the nickname “pumpkin” onto Ash once which resulted in the most intense _fit_ he had seen that didn’t result in violence.

Eiji teaches him Japanese, and with his intelligence, he learns rather fast. He practices his half sewn-together speaking with Eiji during the day and during the night he’s reading textbooks when he can’t sleep. He’s not used to sitting still. He finds his mind sometimes racing with worry, and on some nights when he’s not studying Japanese and remains unable to sleep, he somehow ends up in Eiji’s room. He’s watching him sleep, watching his breathing, watching him and making sure that everything is alright.

Sometimes, he doesn’t feel a gun attached to his hip, and his heart skips and he darts around his body in panic until he remembers – and _realises_ – just where he’s at, and just how far he’s gone. His hands would fidget during those times, and Ash suddenly became aware of just how often he’s had to use his hands to kill. There has to be a compromise somewhere.

Ibe was the one that suggested that he starts cooking frequently. It keeps the hand and mind busy with multiple tasks and it’s obviously much more calming than fighting for your own life. Ash has noticed since, that his hands have stopped twitching.

Ibe comes by rather often, at least once a week – bringing food and making sure that they’re both alright and they’re healing okay. Eiji is showing progress in great bounds; Ash is functioning.

Since being introduced to cooking full time Ash is up a lot in the kitchen, working with his hands, retraining them – to cut open fish instead of a throat, to pull pork instead of pulling a trigger. He’s so used to running on adrenaline alone, that for the first week of living here he’s been crashing multiple times a day out of pure exhaustion. And when he’s back up, he’s frantically making the most detailed meals every day that he and Eiji have the pleasure to share.

He’s noticed he’s taken a tendency to like cooking meat and making a mess more so than something sophisticated. Fancy food was something Ash has only exclusively had in his loud life, and so in this quiet life, he gets his plates dirty.

At this point, the only injuries he obtains now are purely accidental. They’re typically small, too, accidental pokes and cuts that tend to happy when he’s going particularly fast when his cooking – or small oil burns when the grease starts to pop.

Cooking, he learns, takes over all his senses and gives him a similar feeling of adrenaline without having to murder to stay alive. It has been two weeks now, with no sign of anything or anybody from his loud life, but still, he has a tendency to keep looking over his shoulder. The calm is bringing him more panic then it should.

But he never lets it show. That’s the thing. Eiji should never have to worry about him, much less be given reason after reason to carry concern. The last thing he’ll _ever_ want to do is hurt Eiji, and he could see in his beautiful dark eyes that it hurts him to see Ash every time his fingers tremble only slightly while holding a blade. His nerves need rewiring, but he won’t get Eiji involved in it at all.

But Eiji is not at all stupid. Eiji notices little things, too. He notices how Ash only sleeps for short bursts at a time before his footsteps creak back and forth around the living room. He notices how when he’s slicing open beef he’s counting and whispering reminders to himself that this blood is not on his hands. He notices how he hardly ever steps outside.

It’s early one morning when Eiji suggests they go through the market instead of relying on Ibe. “I just figured it may be nice, you know,” he says. “Instead of being cooped up in here.”

Ash hesitates. “That’s fine.”

Eiji’s the next one to hesitate. “Don’t bring a weapon.”

“That’s _not_ fine.”

“I know you’re worried, but please trust me,” Eiji insists, anticipating that answer. He’s sure that it’s going to be a tough decision and it’s going to be even more tough on Ash, but it’s starting to seem that the paranoia is sinking in and weighing him down when he never let that happen before. “This world is not like that for you anymore. You’re _safe_ here in Japan.”

“I don’t know that,” Ash says, genuine.

“I do,” Eiji keeps his voice calm. Insistent. But his overall tone is a simple plea that only carries the best of intentions. “Please, Ash. Try it just one time for me.”

Ash takes a deep breath, a little shaky, thinking about if they were waiting for them outside this entire time, despite these past couple weeks proving otherwise. “What if something happens, Eiji?”

“ _Nothing_ will happen.”

“But what if it does?”

“But it _won’t,_ Ash,” Eiji raises his voice only some, more to create an extra emphasis rather than scream. He takes a deep breath, his hands moving along with his chest to signal that Ash does the same. He does. “Can’t you see? We’ve been here for weeks and not a single soul other than Ibe has knocked on our door.”

Ash waits for a moment, thinking on it. There’s still that lingering voice in his head, the voice that was born all those years ago the moment he was pinned down as a child and—

“What if they’re waiting for us?” He asks, his voice low now. “You don’t know these people, Eiji, they’ll—”

“—I’ve got a pretty good idea. It hasn’t been _that_ long.” Eiji crosses his arms with a sigh. He doesn’t mean it to be harsh, but it cuts through the air that way. “But it has been long _enough_ for it to be clear that you’re free from all of that.”

Ash just stays quiet.

“Please, Ash. Try it just today for me.” Eiji smiles reassuringly and puts his hands on Ash’s. It brings him calm. It brings him joy. “I won’t ask it of you again.”

Ash pauses. Then, he inhales sharply, before he finally agrees.

 

* * *

 

“Your Japanese is getting a lot better,” Eiji smiles warmly, keeping Ash’s arm locked with his own. It notices that it helps his nerves some, the fact he’s anchored down to someone he cares about that knows his way around. Someone he cares about so _much_ , nonetheless.

Ash checks his right side. He hums.

They continue to walk along the market, just trying to see if any scents or signs catch their attention. Some things Ash reads in his head. Others he has to softly mumble to himself. Others he has to outright ask Eiji what the translation means. He keeps track of the new words he’s learned and the way they look and are pronounced, all while he keeps track of every face surrounding him.

Eiji just squeezes his arm reassuringly.

“I’m thinking about taking you somewhere,” he says as they walk.

Ash hums again, this time his eyes trailing backwards. A squeeze brings them back forwards.

“Just keep looking ahead,” he says softly, reassuringly. He pulls on his arm slightly, before stepping off the side. “I want to take you to the library we have here. Now I’m giving you the option to ask someone other than me for directions if you’d like to practice.”

Ash scans the crowd, not even realising how long he had been doing so until Eiji squeezes his arm again. He inhales sharply and looks at him. His eyes carry a weight: years and years of holding onto heaviness finally catching up to him and pushing down on his entire soul. Now, he’s trying to pick apart this weight, leaving behind the pieces and walking away with it all behind – but that’s the hardest part.

“Sure,” he says finally. “I’ll try it out.”

Eiji lets go of his arm carefully to let him decide how to go about the situation. Ash doesn’t even realise what Eiji’s doing. He’s giving him something to overanalyse. He’s putting his brain in a situation that requires him to think in similar steps to thinking his way out of his situations in New York. Instead of resulting in blood and murder, it’s directions to the local library. Instead of increasing his abilities with survival, it’s increasing his abilities with the Japanese language.

Reassociation, he soon will learn, is one of the most effective forms of therapy.

He takes a deep breath and asks the nearest vender to him, carefully remembering the sentence structure. “ _Excuse me,_ ” he says politely. “ _Who is the library?_ ”

_Dare_ – “who” – in Japanese, apparently, was mixed up with _doko_ – “where.”

The vender giggles softly until Ash realises that he’s made a mistake. He rephrases his sentence to the vender, who’s now just nodding and gesturing around the corner and giving directions with a warm smile. The vender expects nothing in return.

Eiji pays close attention too, in the off chance that there’s something Ash misses; and he does. He confused the words _tonari_ and _hidari_ – “next to,” and “left.” The sounds, always. Coming so close. Even so, it’s worth a compliment. So he compliments.

Nonetheless, they make it to the library, and immediately, it’s a massive difference to the library Ash favoured in New York. However, the moment Ash runs his fingers across the spines on the shelves, he feels at home – a smaller, cosier, _safer_ home.

“This is why you brought me out here, isn’t it?” Ash whispers finally, turning back to Eiji, who nonchalantly shrugs. The library was always his sanctuary, they both know this. Never in his life has danger followed him there, and now, in Izumo, it’s suddenly _extremely_ clear the message Eiji was trying to send.

_This is your sanctuary._

Ash almost has a panic attack from sheer relief alone. He places his hands against the wall, breathing carefully, trying not to start a scene and trying not to let any tears slip past his eyes, but it doesn’t really work.

That doesn’t bother anybody, Eiji especially, who just carefully wraps his arms around him and tells him simple words.

_I’m here for you. I’m proud of you. Everything is okay. You’re going to be okay._

And it is.

 

* * *

 

When they leave the library, it’s after only one book was read. It was a small struggle – the kanji, mainly, proving to be a problem as Ash tried so desperately to read this book entirely on his own. Eventually, he had to ask for translations, but as they read on, Ash started asking less and less.

Eiji notices Ash’s face being a little more light. He notices his hand reach for his gun, and remember – but this time, there’s no panic when he realises the weapon is not there. Ash does not ask to go back home. Instead, they find themselves wandering. They follow a path with their arms linked and their legs carrying them on their own. The underlying panic from before is now entirely gone.

Ash pauses by a greenhouse on the way back home, somewhere he’s never been before in his life – not even in New York. There wasn’t a lot of experiences at this point in his life that he has never had before, so being face-to-face with one after all this time excites him, to say the least.

“Can we walk through here?” He asks, curiously and quietly.

Eiji nods. “Of course.”

So they step in, a small rack available for them to take off and hang up their coats. Past this room, the greenhouse does not hesitate to provide some of the most gorgeous scenery either of them have ever seen. The leaves match Ash’s eyes, but the beauty does not carry the same strength as the blonde.

Eiji doesn’t really pay attention to what’s around him, only watching Ash as he steps around plants and explores the tiny world around him, breathing air cleaner than he’s ever inhaled before. It’s almost cathartic, in a way, seeing his eyes as wide as a child. So much was taken away from his youth so in the rare moments when Eiji does get to see Ash behave like he’s young, it’s equal parts heart-warming and completely soul shattering.

This is no different. He blames the gloss of tears in his eyes on allergies, but he insists to stay inside. And he watches. He watches Ash study each plaque with awe and trace his fingers along each little plant with the most delicate touch.

It’s in small moments like these, when they both realise that everything is going to be okay.

It’s nearing dusk by the time they return home, and there’s a flicker of life in Ash’s eyes that Eiji’s never noticed there before.

This is the first time in a long while where Ash doesn’t wake up to a nightmare. He’s sleeping in more, a lot more easily, and it’s to the point to where some mornings Eiji has to wake him up to keep him from sleeping into the afternoon.

“Again, you have blood pressure like a little girl,” he would laugh with a tease.

“How was bingo?” Ash would reply, smirking wide.

Eiji, simply, would throw the newspaper.

Life’s a little lighter all around these past few weeks, but that doesn’t change the fact that there’s a _lot_ to work through. Their wounds have still not yet completely healed, but it’s no longer painful to simply stand. Even so, Eiji still holds Ash like he’s shattered glass. And despite how careful he’d give his hugs or cradle his face, it still seems that Ash would wake up with more cracks than what’s healed behind.

It’s as if something was eating him from the inside. Something he hasn’t told him about yet. Something he was trying so desperately to hide – but it was obvious. It was obvious because he carries the _exact same thing._

He holds onto it for a long while, it seems, before finally one evening after dinner he and Ash are caught between a drawn silence. It’s a floor created with breaking ice, before finally Eiji decides to stomp down as hard as he can to shatter where they stand.

“What am I to you, Ash?” He asks, his words carefully selected.

“You’re my closest friend.” Ash answers, completely at ease. No suspicions raised here, but he does wonder where he’s going with this conversation.

“And for that, I give you my soul.”

Ash’s eyebrows fur together, before he turns to face him, carefully staring into his eyes. He is still entirely honest. “I give you mine, too.”

They share a collective silence, and now Ash seems to know where this conversation is going. “What am I, again?” Eiji asks, suddenly not liking the first answer.

He pauses. This is a trick question, isn’t it? “My best friend.”

“I see,” Eiji thinks quietly. He hesitates, but still he won’t push it if there’s a decline. “Can we be more than that?”

Ash knows _immediately_ what he means. His words are quick, his head shaking along. “I don’t deserve that from you.”

“I’ve always loved you in full, Ash. You deserve nothing less on your soul.” He pauses. He knows that Ash won’t believe his words, but he knows that after some time, he will believe consistency. He’ll have to show him, consistently, and he will gladly. There is a shared thought, but Eiji does not want to act until there is permission first. “Can I kiss you?”

At first Ash doesn’t respond, unable to properly think of a response. His lips remain slightly parted in shock. A moment passes, so Eiji just shrugs, hiding his hint of hurt, but almost expecting the answer. “Best friends, then,” he repeats with a nod, making sure to give off that there was no expectation out of him, and he is allowed to decline if he so pleased. Genuinely, no hard feelings at all. He turns, shifting his mind back to his previous mindset before he feels a sudden grip on his wrist.

“Kiss me, please,” Ash says, voice shakes. His grip is tight. “Please.”

Eiji turns back to face him, carefully studying his body language and his eyes. He’s unreadable _._ “Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” Ash breathes. “Kiss me, please.”

“Don’t just say yes because you feel obligated. Are you _sure,_ Ash?”

“ _Yes,_ Eiji.”

“Say it in full,” Eiji requests. “I won’t kiss you unless you _want_ me to kiss you.”

“I _want_ you to kiss me,” he emphasises. “Please.”

Eiji waits. Just to be clear, one more time. “Are you sure?”

Ash simply nods. “Yes, I’m sure. I want to kiss you.”

This wording is all he needs, before Eiji carefully moves his hands up. He keeps his motions slow, in case Ash decides to back out – which would have been more than okay – and he keeps his touch gentle as he cradles his face. He waits for a moment, almost hesitating, and it’s when he feels Ash’s face almost _trying_ to lean in and kiss him is when he closes his eyes and pushes himself onto the tips of his toes.

This kiss is _slow._ Painstakingly so, and it’s only when Ash tries to initiate more is only when Eiji reciprocates. He makes sure that Ash knows that he sets the boundaries, that he decides how long and how far he wants to go – and by the end, he knows this. Ash knows that he has complete control, but with Eiji, he’s known that he would never be hurt by him.

For once, in his entire life, Ash has felt like what it’s truly like to share a kiss that he wants. After all this time, Ash feels what it’s like to kiss someone he loved. For once, in his entire life, he felt what it was like to love, and to be loved in return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys I’m a mess these boys deserve so much better but they’re getting there they’re gonna be okay because I FUCKING SAID SO. Alas. Have some healing. If you’re interested in seeing the chapters before they’re released, again, my Tumblr will have more info. elenastidham and minuetofthewild. Anyways, thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> -Elena


	3. Sunrise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR: Language, PTSD 
> 
> SONGS USED TO GET IN THE MOOD: “BLUE BIRD” from the Banana Fish soundtrack, plus this sad and warm winter piano playlist video by BGM Music on YouTube, and a piano version of “Oh My Darling Clementine” and lemme tell you that shit HURTED
> 
> I haven’t written angst in a while and it shows. I also haven’t written recovery in a while and that shows too lmao. I’m doing my best here it’s only 4 chapters and only 3 of them are painful. 
> 
> Anyways, if you’re interested in getting access to my work a week early before its release, as well as the deleted scenes, check out my Tumblr!! You’ll find more links and information about that there. My Zelda fic tumblr is minuetofthewild and my personal tumblr is elenastidham!! Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> -Elena

The hardest part about recovery, Ash learns, is just how _long_ it takes.

He and Eiji sleep in the same bed now. Sometimes, Ash sleeps entirely through the night, completely calm and collected without a single bother in the world stopping him from feeling loved and alive. Other nights, he wakes up screaming and shooting up with such an intense amount of fear that Eiji has to almost hold him still.

One night Ash wakes in a complete frenzy. To this day, he has not told Eiji the entirety of what nightmare haunted him so _badly_ that night, but he knows it was beyond awful. Awful enough for him to remember that he wasn’t armed with a gun, but not to remember who he shares a bed with. Seconds after Eiji wakes up to Ash’s screaming, he’s suddenly finding himself pinned to the bed by his neck, harsh hands clenching around his throat as tight as they possibly can.

“ _Ash!_ ” He gasps, his hands gripping tightly onto Ash’s arms and trying to pull. But Ash is stronger than him. It feels like his throat is going to collapse in on itself, tears leaving his eyes more out of reaction – more because they’re being _squeezed_ out of him. His voice is leaving. Nothing but raspy gasps and broken fragments of sounds remain as stars begin to prick at the corners of his vision. “ _Ash!”_

Based on the look in his eyes, Ash is not there. He’s almost too far gone, but Eiji continues to struggle, knowing that Ash would hate himself so much if something were to happen. He didn’t even care if he was going to die, he was more scared about this boy he loved looking at himself and only thinking of the word _monster._ He tries one more thing, at this point his voice cracks and shatters into almost nonexistence. “ _Aslan!_ ”

There’s something in hearing his real name that snaps Ash to reality and he suddenly realises what he’s doing. Green eyes soften, then widen, and then all at once, it’s very clear what almost just happened.

Ash quickly lets go of his grasp, scrambling backwards on the bed and watching Eiji’s body practically convulse with the first wheezing gasps of air. The coughs that proceed are harsh, and based on the sounds alone Ash realises just what he had done. Any second longer, and he would have been dead. _Dead_ , and _all his fault._

“God,” Ash’s voice shakes. “Eiji, I—” He stops, and he looks down at his hands, noticing that his body is shaking, too. His body is half running on adrenaline and half on complete terror at his own work, before gentle hands reach in and carefully take his own.

“Ash,” Eiji’s voice is choppy. Calm. He’s coughing through his words. It’s like the carrots that he’d shred so lightly before mixing them in with his food. While he heals his voice carries the reminder that he almost shred apart his throat. “It’s okay.”

Ash stares in this complete state of shock, and it takes him almost a full minute of silence and desperately looking for words before he finally reaches out and pulls himself away. He shoves himself off the bed and dashes out the bedroom and down the hall, past the living space and the building entirely before he finds himself caught somewhere outside. Desperately looking for the sea, he isolates himself, and that’s where he just _sobs._

The only thing he even sees at this point are those beautiful brown eyes, wide and fading and crying and desperately fighting for life. The image has scorched itself into his brain, as well as the fact that _he_ did this to him. He didn’t even recognise Eiji, for fuck’s sake, and his first instinct was to kill him.

He’s just a monster after all.

His wrists still sting from the warmth of Eiji’s grasp, the way he tried to save himself but also was trying his hardest not to hurt Ash in the process. Even while dying, he is still more concerned on what would happen to Ash instead of himself. It makes him sick.

This image will haunt him for the rest of his life.

“ _Ash!_ ” A voice calls. He hears the small squeaks and cries from just minutes ago, and he has to cover his ears, unable to even try and comprehend the horrific memory. It’s not until he feels a grip on his shoulders and a shake until his eyes snap open and his body jolts away from the touch. He didn’t even realise that he was being followed.

“Eiji, please,” Ash pushes himself backwards towards the sea, as if the water would tether him to the earth below. “Please, stay away from me.”

Eiji completely ignores his request. He kneels down to where their eyes are level and he reaches out for him. There’s almost contact, before Ash intervenes with it. “Don’t!” Ash shouts, now, not even out of self-defence. It’s to protect the one he loves the most. “Don’t, please. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” Eiji says smoothly.

“I tried to _kill_ you!”

“You didn’t know it was me,” Eiji tells him. They know this. That’s the scary part. But for Eiji, it’s a simple fact that explains why he was so shaken. “Ash, listen to me. It’s okay.”

Ash literally cannot process his words. “No it’s _not_ ,” he says, the hurt in his tone real. “I tried to kill you, and I didn’t even realise it was you. My first thought when I woke up was to strangle you to death. I’m a _monster_ —”

“—You are _not_ a monster—”

“—Don’t bullshit me, Eiji!” Ash screams. Eiji makes a face, but he does not flinch at the tone. “ _Say it,_ ” he demands. “Say that I’m a monster.”

“But it’s not true,” Eiji’s voice remains irrevocably calm. It’s undeniable that he’s sincere, and that’s the most fucked up part. He doesn’t believe it whatsoever, and Ash will never understand how.

“ _Why_?” Ash cries, keeping his hands away. “I tried to kill you. I tried to kill you with my bare hands.”

Eiji just says nothing, knowing that nothing he says will get to him. Instead, he carefully leans in close and takes his hands, holding onto them gently, but also firm enough so they aren’t easily yanked away. “You and your hands are not to blame.”

Ash avoids even looking at him in the eye, his chest filled with this feeling of hollow. He doesn’t understand. He and his hands are exactly to blame.

“These hands,” he sobs. “All they do is kill.”

Eiji shakes his head. He keeps his word choice especially careful. Still, this boy seems to be made only out of shattered glass. “Ash, I need you to listen to me. Everything’s _okay._ ”

Ash just stares at him, specifically into his eyes, and it takes a moment before Eiji finally leans in to kiss the top of his forehead, then pull him in close. He keeps his grip loose, in case Ash wants him to let go, but no such request is made. Instead, he just waits, his mind and body processing what’s happening, before he just lets his ear rest against Eiji’s chest, listening to the gentle thunder of his heartbeat.

“Eiji,” he speaks quietly.

“I’m right here.”

Ash swallows hard, before he simply speaks again. “When I’m with you, I feel at home. Please, I don’t want that to go away.” His voice breaks. “I can’t lose you.”

Eiji smiles warmly, reassuringly, before he just holds him close and just pets his hair back. He makes sure that Ash can tell his head is shaking. “I promised you before, and I’ll promise you again. I’ll always stay by your side.”

Ash just lets his sobs out from there, and Eiji has no problem not letting go.

 

* * *

 

A few days later in the early morning Eiji wakes up to cold on the other side of his bed. He’s used to this, but he didn’t remember a nightmare earlier that evening. Perhaps he just woke up early? Then again, for Ash, that’s awfully out of character.

Eiji pushes himself out into the living area, noticing that suddenly it’s decorated with plants – all along the shelves and corners and even dangling from the ceiling like lights. It take a moment for that to adjust, before he hears faint rustling in the kitchen. He wanders around, noticing Ash hanging up yet another plant. Ash can feel him there, but he feels no need to put up his guard.

He turns, smiling with an emotion caught between desperate and warm. “Morning,” he says simply as he turns back to quickly finish up the plant.

“What’s all this about?” Eiji laughs. “It’s like a forest in here.”

“I wanted to start gardening,” Ash muses, carefully stepping back and watching the hanging plant for a moment before he nods. He turns back to Eiji. “It would give me something to do when I’m not studying Japanese or cooking.” He waits a second, before he clarifies. “Did I overstep?”

“Not at all,” Eiji giggles. “It’s nice. I just wanted to see what you were up to.”

Ash nods. “I was just out,” he says. He was afraid of himself in the open Japan night life, but he had to push himself out there. He didn’t carry anything on him, not even a knife, but with brief visits to the greenhouse and the library, he fully comes to the realisation that weapons are no longer in this quiet life. The days nights are still safe in Japan.

“Well, I like what you’ve done,” Eiji smiles fondly. Ash just leans in, softly pressing their lips together.

Every time they kiss, Ash thinks of a time where someone kissed him without his consent. He thinks of each time he was given a kiss that he did not want. He immediately replaces it with each kiss now, with each kiss that he _does_ want. Each instant where he’s had to scream or fight and fail to survive each individual assault he now thinks of the pure warmth and comfort of Eiji’s kisses now. He’s replacing a lot of kisses.

He notices that he always has to be the one to initiate, that Eiji never leans in without asking – he always asks, or he always waits for Ash to make the first move. It’s the tiniest of details in this boy. He’s so fucking smitten. He’s so fucking in _love_.

Ash has noticed that he’s more likely to love kissing someone if that certain someone is only Eiji. It’s cosy. It’s comfy. It’s soothing. It’s warm and gracious and absolutely, positively Eiji – and Ash has noticed that he kisses more, now. It’s because he means it. It’s not like before, where every kiss only brings pain and terror and memories that he has to block away.

But now, he’s reopening wounds that he fucking cauterized.

Ash stops in the middle of a moment, his brows furring together and he waits it out, letting the moment arrive and leave as he replaces it with his Eiji.

And Eiji is patient of him. Sometimes when he’s had to stop altogether he doesn’t let Ash apologise. There’s nothing for him to feel sorry for – if anything, he ends up apologising for triggering those memories to come back. Not once does he ask for anything in return.

It’s to the point now to even when Ash can’t sleep in the same bed when he’s feeling particularly frantic, he’s always in the same room. He’s on the floor, he’s in a chair, he’s leaned against the wall. He’s always within some kind of proximity to Eiji, the comfort of that fact alone lulling him to sleep some nights when the bed never could.

Other nights, when the nightmares hit, he doesn’t leave. He just curls up tighter into Eiji’s arms, keeping his eyes closed and listening to the sound of his voice. It’s always the same set of words – comforting, reassurances, the works – but he wouldn’t trade them in for the world. Not at all. Sometimes, there’s only silence, and during those sometimes when the only sounds Ash can hear is faint breathing and a heartbeat, he just closes his eyes. It’s all he needs.

The gap between his mania and his calm is slowly narrowing. With each day that passes, Eiji notices that the nightmares aren’t as frequent, or aren’t as extreme. He notices that Ash is more open to walking outside now, and he notices more and more that Ash is less on edge.

Ash is learning to adapt, but he has not let his guard down entirely. That’s clear. At this point, he just accepts that he will always be looking over his shoulder, but he also accepts that it’s done. That it’s _over._ It’s finally _over._ It’s over. It’s over. It’s _over. It’s over—_

 

* * *

 

One morning Ash wakes up to the smell of food. He’s finally sleeping later than Eiji again – it’s been a while since he’s done that. It’s not to the point to having to be woken up again, yet, but he only smiles to himself that one day he’ll get there. That one day, he got here.

He wanders into the kitchen to find the culprit of the smell, and it was shrimp. He glances around at the counter, noticing what he’s making – all he can do is smile.

“It’s been a minute since you’ve made that for me,” Ash says. Normally, Eiji isn’t used to feeling him arrive, and is always startled by his voice. But after living with each other for a short while now, he hasn’t jumped as much anymore.

“I just thought you’d like to wake up to it,” Eiji grins simply. Ash just hugs him from behind. Eiji rests his head against his shoulder, and the two of them stay this way for a moment until the shrimp is done. Eiji doesn’t even use words, he just gently pats on Ash’s hands to convey what he’s saying. He finishes up, then sets the bowl on the table across from where he sits.

“Are you eating anything?” Ash asks, suddenly concerned.

Eiji chuckles lightly, before he pulls out a bowl and pours in some rice that he had pre-made in the rice cooker while he worked on the salad. He cracks an egg over the rice in his bowl, then he sits down across Ash. “I’m not really in the mood for much, so this works.”

Ash peeks over, raising an eyebrow. “That looks like natto.”

“The only thing similar about it is how we mix it with rice,” Eiji laughs. “Do you want to try it?”

Ash shrugs, then Eiji passes his bowl over. He takes a bite, expecting natto, but is instead pleasantly surprised. He passes the bowl back and offers his salad, to which Eiji denies politely. “I’m allergic to shrimp,” he smiles.

“You’ve been allergic this whole time?” Ash stares, aghast. “Won’t cooking with it like, kill you?”

Eiji laughs and shakes his head. “Eating it won’t even kill me. I’ll just get sick. Cooking with it isn’t a big deal, love.”

_Love._

Ash feels a tint of red heat prick across his face, before he quickly looks down into his salad. It’s funny – how they’ve been together for so long but he’s still so helplessly in love with every little thing he does. Every little thing about him still makes him smile like nobody else can.

“Did you want to do anything today?” Eiji asks while they eat.

Ash just shakes his head. “I just was going to take care of the plants and spend time with you. That’s all I want to do, really.” He looks up. “Did you want to?”

Eiji just shakes his head, too. “Just spend the day with you.”

They smile, but it’s pursed. They have to look away from each other for a moment just to giggle it out. It’s ridiculously sappy, and they love every second of it. They love every second of each other.

“I do think it would be fun though,” Eiji thinks of something, turning back to him. “If we gardened together. Maybe we can plant some flowers in with the plants.”

Ash always had an odd sensitivity against flowers – in practically every context he saw them in they were used in his loud life. Yet now, in his quiet life, flowers sound like nothing more than a botanical representation of Eiji.

Eiji really saved him, in so many ways, and he has no idea how.

Ash just finishes his bite, before he stands up. He quickly makes himself a glass of water and drinks it, making sure to splash it on his lips and wiping it carefully – to where there’s no sign of shrimp on him whatsoever – before he walks back and leans in to plant a soft kiss on Eiji’s lips. He’s patient, making sure that no reaction happens, before he kisses him again and again and again. One more, just for good measure.

“I’d love to.”

 

* * *

 

It’s been a year since Ash Lynx has left New York City. His heart does not beat with fear and dread every time he steps out into the sunlight anymore, his head not racing with a million thoughts on how he or Eiji could die. Now, it’s gone down to a little less than a thousand.

It’s still progress, nonetheless. It still is a massive weight pulled off his chest in comparison to when he first came.

They speak this interesting mix between Japanese and English at home. After constant practice, Ash finds his ability in the language to be between fluent and conversational. By no means is it flawless, but it’s definitely better than confusing _Gizmo_ and _Izumo._ The language they speak at home is this one-of-a-kind crossbreed, something only they understand. Something that makes it so uniquely theirs.

They’ve also reached this point to where Eiji no longer has to ask for kisses. Ash has greenlit this, of course – telling him one morning that it’s okay to just kiss him whenever he wants because _he_ loves it too.

“I will never want to push you away from me,” he had said.

And he doesn’t. He’s paused, he’s told him to wait a second, he’s even swallowed away any feelings that made him uncomfortable – because it’s Eiji. It’s all Eiji. He has never been, and could never be hurt by this man, and because of it, Ash is willing to do anything in the world for him. He’s made progress in bounds, all because he rewrote his life and his place in this world including Eiji, and it’s all he needs.

Yet, there’s one thing that holds him back. There’s one thing left that tethers him to his old life, and he didn’t realise it until one day Eiji was screaming it.

_Ash._

It’s simple. It’s a name that is not even his. It _was_ his, when he was part of a _gang._ But it’s not his anymore. It hasn’t been his name in over a year. At first, he didn’t think it would be that big of a deal, but the more he thought on it, the more he realised that Ash was a created _solely_ out of his loud life. In his quiet life, he does not need it anymore.

So finally one evening came and Ash finds himself sitting outside again, watching the sunset. He thinks on this for a moment, running through all the possible times in his head where he desperately wished that he was not Ash Lynx anymore.

And he’s not. In over 365 days, Ash Lynx does not exist to this world. It’s only a memory now, and with a deep breath, it’s a memory that had finally been let go. As the flames extinguished themselves behind a now black sky, a name died with the light.

He feels Eiji walk up behind him, the distant sound of the sea muffling the footsteps in the sand. “Ash, it’s getting late,” he says smoothly, his voice more comforting than the waves that gently come by. “Why don’t you come to bed?”

Ash nods, pushing himself up to a stand. He hesitates, watching the water for just a moment, as if he had watched the name itself sail out to the sea, then he turns back around.

“Can I ask you something?” He asks.

Eiji nods. “Of course.”

Ash has to think of how exactly to frame it, before he sticks with the simple answer. “From now on,” he avoids looking at him in the eyes. “Can you please just…call me Aslan?”

It’s not the question Eiji was expecting, but of course he doesn’t mind. “Can I ask why?” His voice is innocent. Ash cannot seem to find an answer quickly, his eyes darting around for a proper explanation of the reason, before Eiji interrupts it. He smiles, walking over and taking his hands, standing up onto the tips of his toes again to softly kiss his forehead. “Of course. That’s fine.”

The smile is contagious now. He doesn’t even know how to respond, that’s when Eiji simply just tugs on his hand before they start walking back home.

“Let’s get some sleep, Aslan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s where I’m going to leave this chapter! This next one is going to wrap everything up nicely and I’m so excited to finish it. They deserve it. Do it for them. Alas, once again with the whole check out the descriptions in my Tumblr for early access yadda yadda elenastidham and minuetofthewild I hate self-promotion but anyways. Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> -Elena


	4. This Quiet Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR: Language 
> 
> SONGS USED TO GET IN THE MOOD: Someone on tumblr put up the music that plays during Ash’s death and so I’ve been listening to that and crying, on top of a variety of music that I’m developing in a playlist for another fic, which includes “RED” by Survive Said the Prophet
> 
> This is it! This is the end! Check out the end for the sappy notes, but until then, I just want to say that this was so therapeutic for me in helping me process the ending of the show. Sure, I’ve come to terms with Ash’s death despite disagreeing with it, but I feel a lot better now that I gave them a world where they’re happy. That’s all that matters. I’m working on a second Banana Fish fic right now, an alternate universe where Aslan is a journalist, and he meets this boy in Japan…that happens to be part of the Yakuza. I’m currently developing the universe and trying to figure out where everything should go, but keep your eyes out until then! I should start writing it soon. 
> 
> Anyways, if you’re interested in getting access to my work a week early before its release, as well as the deleted scenes, check out my Tumblr!! You’ll find more links and information about that there. My Zelda fic tumblr is minuetofthewild and my personal tumblr is elenastidham!! Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> -Elena

“Ticket,” Eiji says. “ _Kippu._ ”

“ _Kippu,_ ” He repeats.

“Perfect,” Eiji smiles. “Now use it in a sentence.”

“ _I bought us tickets to go to New York.”_

“Good,” he says, raising an eyebrow just slightly at his example sentence. It’s awfully specific, but it takes a few seconds for it to register what he actually means. “Wait, did you really?”

He doesn’t look up, but he nods. It was a decision solely on impulse, but it’s a decision he made because there was one more thing he had to do. There was something that came back into his life that needed to be taken care of, and so he was going to take care of it. As long as Eiji remains at his side, nothing would hurt him again.

Eiji reaches over and places a hand on his. This causes him to look up.

“Are you sure about this?” Eiji asks.

He just nods again, turning his hand so their palms meet and he just holds it in his own. “As sure as I can be.”

 

* * *

 

_“Why did you let your guard down? You never do. Why now?”_

It hurt. No surprise about it there. But what hurt even more was the simple fact that this tore into his chest and told him that he and Eiji don’t belong together.

_“No hard feelings. I can’t let you take Sing away.”_

He’s struggling to stand, a hand pressed into his side as he’s stumbling along the pavement, heavy blood drawn. Nobody offered him help – that’s just how New York is.

His initial thought was to go to a hospital, to a friend, to someplace where he can get help and rest while he recovers and remains safe. However, a new thought came. A thought that told him that everything is okay. That he did well. That it’s time to rest. It’s time to let it go.

He debated this thought for just a few moments, struggling to breathe, before he finally thought to himself that maybe this would be a good time to let it go. He turned his head, and, as if it were second nature, he pushed himself to walk. Carrying the letter and carrying himself, he found his way into the library, before he sat back down in his usual place – the usual kind of silence remained around him.

So serene, set apart from the world of violence and fighting. But so alone. And such an indescribable and sublime loneliness.

Such a perfect way to die.

He looked back at his letter, then to the painted sky along the ceiling. Even though he cried, he had never felt more at peace with dying in his life.

Ash Lynx was eighteen years old when he died. Yet despite having been dying right then and there, he’d wake up in a hospital a day later, with the constant reassurance that it’s alright to go to Japan with Eiji.

He was furious. He was ready to die. He _had_ died. But he couldn’t stay dead – but now, where he stands, he is so glad that he didn’t end his life that day.

 

* * *

 

It had been ten years since he chose to board a plane. It was to Japan, and it’s ironic, really, that after all this time it’s to go back to New York for not even a week.

Aslan Callenreese-Okumura is twenty-eight years old, and he’s never felt more happy to be alive.

The marriage isn’t official, but they do have rings that they wear from time. Aslan wears it the most, practically every day, and he had noticed he’s more calm with himself and the world around him when he wears it. It’s grounding – the kind of softness he needs in his life that only Eiji had been able to give away.

He likes to fiddle with it, especially at work where he’s having to practically relive his trauma every day; but in the end, a child is saved. That simple fact alone makes waking up every single morning worth it all.

His job isn’t life threatening work, it’s just hard to swallow. Aslan works now fighting sexual abuse as a detective, putting his intelligence and experiences to good use. He’s saving people now instead of killing them, pulling children out of lives like his is the very reason why he decided to even enter the field.

Eiji, quite simply, works as a photographer. His most successful piece was one taken at Cape Cod about ten years ago, of a young blonde boy resting his head on his knee in a windowsill, eyes closed and calm. It’s unsure if he was asleep, or maybe praying, but many have said they feel this intense wave of sadness by looking at it, the same kind you only feel when dusk falls. Some have even reached out and asked him if they could get in contact with said model – to which Eiji had mournfully replied, “he died shortly after the picture was taken.”

The photo, very simply, was named: _Dawn_.

Aslan has stopped waking up screaming in the middle of the night. Most of the time, his nightmares are gone within minutes, and he hardly even remembers them when he wakes up anymore. He had successfully replaced practically every single vile memory in his life with something wholesome – something to remind of him Eiji. In his mind now, Eiji is always there.

He’s stopped worrying himself to sleep every night. The horrific sleep schedule he carried through a whole decade of his life managed to make its way into his adulthood, but he doesn’t mind it much anymore. He walks around at night a lot, to the point to where the locals can call him by name and they hold a pretty decent conversation. It’s always of the little things, too. Kids, work, family, dreams for a new business. It’s all wonderful small talk; it makes him forget that he never carries a weapon anymore.

Some mornings, Aslan is up early, just watching the sunrise. Sometimes, Eiji joins him. Sometimes, he’s just alone. But other times, it’s somewhere in-between – where Eiji will just gaze at him from the side for a moment, watching the dawn melt its way up the shore and onto Aslan’s face like all those years ago on the windowsill.

Today, Eiji stands again in the in-between.

Most of the time, Aslan doesn’t acknowledge these in-betweens. Yet, today, he turns his head, meeting his eyes. “What’s got you up?” he asks.

“The bed was cold,” Eiji says simply, walking over and sitting down next to him. He’s hesitant on his words, but he isn’t on his actions. He rests his head down on Aslan’s lap, watching the water with him. Aslan brings his hands up into Eiji’s hair – which had grown considerably in these past few years – and started to run his fingers through the dark locks.

“Was that all?” Aslan asks, knowingly. Their eyes meet for a moment before Eiji turns back to the water.

He pauses, thinking on how to word his answer. “Why do you want to go back, really?” He asks. He waits a moment, and he can tell that Aslan is thinking. “I thought you never wanted to go back there again.”

“I don’t,” Aslan laughs lightly, before he takes a deep breath. He doesn’t frown, but his smile is gone. “But I want to say a proper goodbye to Max. I just left one day and left him relatively in the dark. I figured…he deserves more than that.”

Eiji smiles warmly, turning back around to meet the most beautiful green eyes a human could carry. More breathtaking than a jade. “You’re such a softie,” he teases.

“Am not,” Aslan scoffs, playfully. Then he looks down, then he sees those mesmerising brown eyes, before he just giggles and melts. He doesn’t even notice his bodying moving to lean in and kiss his lips softly, the once more on his cheek, but the deed was done. “Well, when I look at you, maybe I am.”

Eiji’s kisses have never been short of sweet and tender, and his laughter brings more warmth and joy than the sun.

“You’re too much for me, Aslan Callenreese,” Eiji just giggles.

Aslan just grins, before he pulls Eiji up to his chest and holds him there. “Eiji Okumura, you’re still the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” His voice is softer, a little more sombre – just as sincere.

Eiji feels the words in his heart and soul. He closes his eyes, leaning in closer to Aslan’s chest and wrapping his arms around him as well. A soft string of three words were spoken by the both of them, sometimes repetitively, but eventually the words lead to silence. Silence and the gentle breathing of the ocean.

_“I love you.”_

 

* * *

 

New York is a world full of noise. It’s a noisy life that he has not heard since he was a child, and it’s a noisy life that had never been more happy to leave behind. They’re there just as tourists, but that doesn’t mean Aslan doesn’t remember anything. He remembers, in fact, _everything_.

He remembers all the hidden details that most people overlook. He remembers the best places to eat. He remembers the places where he would have to hide and sleep. He remembers all memories that are associated with every single street corner and location his eyes would land on. He remembers it all.

The apartment complex where Max used to live is gone, now – and Aslan now can only wonder where he might have moved to. Eiji’s the one to suggest they talk to Sing, but Aslan is quick to refuse it.

“Everybody thinks that I’m dead,” he says. He’s right. It’s what kept him and Eiji out of so much dangerous retaliation for this past decade. “I can check records. Max is a journalist, he’s bound to be easily found somewhere.”

Eiji can’t help but nod on that, but then he suggests that they divide and conquer. Sing was the one that wanted him to pay a visit if he ever came back, and of course he wasn’t going to go back on what he promised at the airport. Aslan, in an odd way, is a little glad that he suggested it – he wanted to be alone, for once. He has to think.

So they split.

Eiji finds Sing first – almost on complete accident – by wandering into Chinatown and walking by a specific restaurant he’s been to before. Eiji completely overlooks him, and not on purpose, and it’s not until he hears his name being called does he turn back around. Sing’s halfway out the doors, still holding them open but leaning in the direction of the man who just walked past.

“Holy _shit,_ ” Sing grins. “You came back!”

“I was looking for you,” Eiji only smiles in return, walking back up to him. His eyes wander past Sing for a moment into the restaurant, before he simply glances away. After all this time, he still feels the blame of Shorter Wong. “I wanted to come say hi to you and Max, but Max isn’t here anymore, I don’t think.”

“He moved,” Sing nods. “He and his family live in the Village now, last I checked.”

Eiji has absolutely no idea where that is, but he’ll be sure to tell Aslan about it.

“Come inside,” Sing urges, tugging at his sleeve now. There’s still an excited child behind a grown man’s eyes. These eyes are hardened – like Ash’s, while he was alive, but at the same they share a similar resemblance to Aslan’s eyes today. “Please, there’s so much to talk about.”

Eiji doesn’t even need to be convinced. He wants to, so he does. The doors close behind him, and he’s the only one in this restaurant that doesn’t have any appetite to eat.

Aslan had no issues finding the exact address, but he decides it’s best to wait before he goes. It would more than likely be better to see him with Eiji by his side.

Until then, Aslan finds himself these past few hours just wandering, helplessly walking around New York City without a weapon or any means of defending himself. He has no intention to. It’s uneasy – feeling safety in a place where safety was slim to none. He remembers it all.

Around the evening’s dawn he walks up to the place he used to call sanctuary. He almost doesn’t even want to step inside – his last memory there had tainted the overall location, his last memory there had him convinced it was the final moments of his life, and he was okay with that. He had destroyed the Banana Fish. He had burned down Golzine’s reign. He got to see Eiji one last time. They had said their goodbyes, even. He was more than okay with laying there to die.

Little did he know that in a measly ten years he would be standing on the doorsteps to the New York Public Library once again, this time, with no intentions of dying inside. Aslan just takes a deep breath, before his legs guide him inside once again.

He remembers reading.

He remembers, as he traces his fingers along book spines lining the shelves, the comfort words from other worlds used to bring. He remembers everything he’d learn, every little sentence he’d take. He remembers the exact spot he used to sit every time – it’s still there, waiting for him to take the place again. He remembers how he’d always hide here if he’d want to be free, if he was just too damn afraid of the world to live a little longer in it.

Aslan isn’t afraid anymore.

He doesn’t know how long he’s there. He’s wandering in between shelves and scanning the books and it’s not until he walks back out into the open when he sees Eiji waiting for him where he sits.

“I thought I’d find you here,” he says quietly. Aslan just greets him with a tight hug. Eiji reciprocates, but gives him a small look of concern. “Is everything alright?”

Aslan just nods, the feeling of this boy’s arms brings him home and to heaven on earth.

The next morning is when they decide to speak with Max after all this time. They take the whole day for it, since tomorrow they’re leaving back to Japan.

This new apartment where Max stays is almost too nice for a journalist’s salary. Then he remembers what Jessica does for a living, and that probably, most _definitely_ helps with the income.

They stand outside the door for just a few moments, before Eiji looks over at him. “Do you want me to knock?”

Aslan shakes his head. He’ll do it. He wants to do it. He _has_ to do it. He just needs a moment to build up the strength. What will he even say?

Despite the millions of questions starting to blur around over and over in his head, he brings up his hand knocks on the door only twice. When the door opens, it’s neither Max or Jessica that answers, instead just a teenage boy, that shares a resemblance of each parent.

“Is Max home?” Eiji asks politely.

Michael just nods before he pops his gum, then he turns back around into the apartment, walking around to the kitchen. He calls for his dad, telling him there’s people at the door that want to see him. At this point, they’ve both stepped inside.

Max comes into the room wiping his hands with a dish towel, giving them a generic greeting and asking how he could be of assistance, until he looks up and notices the green eyes first. He has never forgotten the set of jades for eyes even if he wanted to – but he didn’t want to. Instead, he just stops, staring blankly, holding the towel in place and unable to form any kind of words.

“Hello,” Aslan finally says, softly.

Needless to say, what came next is a swirl of emotions and the tightest hug he could ever earn.

 

* * *

 

The final morning in New York, Aslan wakes up warm. Eiji isn’t sleeping next to him, as he’s already woken up and started packing the final pieces of clothing and other portions of luggage into their suitcases, and he’s just about done right as Aslan sits up.

“Good morning,” Eiji greets him. “You’re up early.”

Aslan shrugs. “I wasn’t that tired last night, really.” He’s being honest. The night with Max and his family will go down in his memory as one of the greatest days of his life.

“When’s our flight?”

“In a couple hours, but we should be heading towards the airport here soon.”

Aslan nods before he pushes himself up out of bed. The sunrise through the city pauses on his skin, and with a deep breath he can only say his goodbye to it.

_Sayonara, America. Sayonara, New York._

Yet Eiji did not say _sayonara_ to him, because he knew that one day they would meet once again, and they did. They would live a life in the quiet, and a life that made Aslan happy to be alive.

They walk down the sidewalks arm in arm, and on these sidewalks Aslan realises where they’re walking by. Eiji probably didn’t even realise the route they were taking, and it’s not until Aslan slips away from his grasp when he discovers they’re in an area that’s only familiar.

“What’s wrong?” He asks.

Aslan doesn’t say a word, but instead lightly jogging ahead of them and pausing in front of a set of stairs that lead down. He knows exactly where they go.

“Do you remember this place?” He asks once Eiji has caught up to him.

Eiji waits, then shakes his head.  “Do you?”

Aslan just nods, not peeling his eyes away from the gate. “Downstairs,” he says quietly. “There’s a bar.” He turns his head to where their eyes are caught on the same gaze. “The bar where we first met.”

Eiji pays attention, now, turning to face the gate before he remembers coming here with Ibe. He remembers meeting Skip inside. He remembers asking Ash Lynx if he could hold his gun. He remembers him saying yes.

He glances back, and he sees that Aslan is probably thinking the same things.

Eiji carefully reaches a hand over and cradles half of Aslan’s face with it. They lock eyes for a moment, and Eiji just gives him a look, like he’s asking permission for something. He earns a nod in response.

That’s when he just leans in, giving him the softest kiss at the place where they first met.

When they pull away, Aslan just takes a deep breath, before kissing him again, one more time, and one last time for good measure. When they stop, they just stare at each other in the eyes with the most wholesome look they could hold for each other – a look where only love exists there. To think that _he_ managed to fall in love.

Aslan looks back one last time, before he pulls Eiji close to him and they start to walk away. They’re arm in arm again, but this time, their arms seem to braid into a curl so they can hold hands as they leave.

Aslan was born in a world of quiet, but at the age of eight his life had been divided into three – the quiet with noise, the noise, and the pure, unflinching silence. After surviving the first two types of noise, the only reasonable response in the end is somewhere with silence, and that somewhere just so happens to be called his _home._ Home is in the quiet. Home is with Eiji.

Aslan holds Eiji’s hand tighter, and with the rising dawn, he goes back to this quiet life, and he’s never felt more free. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, everybody! This is it, the end. We’ve finally reached it. I’m actually impressed with myself on how quickly I managed to finish this fic – normally it takes me like, a long ass time. But alas, it is done. 
> 
> I just want to say thank you so much once again for letting me tell this story. I’m so incredibly happy that my boys are happy now and I hope you guys liked reading it. Thank you so much for your support on this fic and I am so incredibly touched at the support you have given me. 
> 
> A special thank you goes to my beta, Hannah, for being willing to look over this whole fic for me and helping me give you guys the best story that this could be. A special thank you also, to my best friend Lily, for being my muse as I wrote Aslan’s love for Eiji. And lastly, a special thank you to you, my readers, for always reading. 
> 
> This has been This Quiet Life. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I hope you enjoyed. 
> 
> Love,  
> Elena.


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